


Warmth

by lalazee



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 15:59:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalazee/pseuds/lalazee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missionary sex. Under the covers. This is just getting out of hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> Originally a kink meme fill. Originally posted way back when.

“Oh, hell no,” Esca said with a grunt as Marcus lazily flipped off the thick, downy comforter and turned to spoon Esca’s curled-up form in the dark. Marcus nuzzled the back of Esca’s neck, all fuzzy, big-lug warmth. Esca shivered, but not for the right reasons.  
  
“ _Marcus_.” Esca felt his arms prickle with goosebumps as the frigid night air slapped at his skin. “It’s the middle of fucking January,” he said as he whipped the blankets back atop them. He whacked Marcus’ wide palm away as it attempted to sneak past the waistband of Esca’s thick, raggedy sweatpants. “Your cheap, old-man methods of shutting off the heat every evening are in no way aiding your current plight. Go to sleep.”  
  
“Be quiet,” Marcus said, all deep midnight gravel in his voice. “I’ll warm you up.”  
  
Esca’s snort of incredulity was muffled when Marcus swept the covers over their heads, engulfing them in heavy shadow. The thick-cut half moon had shined pale grey through the open curtains, carving their bedroom in shadow and shape in the dark. Now, beneath the lush ruffle of sheets and whisper of Marcus’ hands tugging at Esca’s pyjamas, there was nothing but blind touch and feel.  
  
“I’d like to see you try,” Esca said half-heartedly, already arching his back, pushing his arse against the hot, stiff jut of Marcus’ cock.  
  
Stuttering a sharp breath, Marcus’ fingertips dug into the tender flesh at Esca’s hip – and then Esca was rolled and shoved beneath Marcus’ body in one abrupt sweep. Esca blinked up into the black, unable to even make out the line of Marcus’ shoulders.  
  
He could feel them, though. The play of smooth skin and shifting muscle beneath Esca’s hands as Marcus scooted down the bed to tug off Esca’s clothes. Urgency swept and crackled through Esca’s veins as he lifted his hips in compliance. Marcus huffed a soft laugh as Esca’s knee just missed colliding with his face in the rush to rid themselves of the ever-aggravating sweats.  
  
“Sorrysorry,” Esca said, his words a jumbled murmur as he hooked his legs around Marcus’ waist and urged him back. Marcus hummed his assent against Esca’s skin, mouthing damp, humid kisses along Esca’s collarbone, his throat.  
  
Esca no longer felt cold. Complaints fizzled from his mind as Marcus draped the hard, heavy length of his body over Esca’s and thrust his hips forward in a long, languid roll. Esca’s short gasp was swallowed as Marcus cupped Esca’s cheeks and plunged his tongue between Esca’s parted lips.  
  
Marcus was always touching Esca’s face. Esca never understood why – it was as if Marcus was memorising him – but he couldn’t complain. He wouldn’t ever want Marcus to stop. To be touched, held; Esca had taken in sweet time growing used to the effect it had on him.  
  
Around Marcus,  _with_  Marucs, Esca felt both weak and utterly empowered.  
  
Warmth washed over Esca, dripped from his skin hot and sticky and addictive. Vaguely, he recognised the muffled sound of his voice as he spoke demands against Marcus’ lips, begged for the end to come quickly. Marcus’ hummed into Esca’s mouth, one hand sliding away to grope noisily at side table. The lamp toppled to the carpet, but all that pierced through the thick waves of pleasure swamping Esca was the pop of the lube top and the sound of Marcus’ shallow, anticipatory breathing.  
  
Marcus sat back, the blanket tenting around them vast and black. Esca reached out, could trace the curve of Marcus’ heaving chest as he slicked up his fingers. A yelp followed by sigh sounded from Esca upon the first cool, wet brush of Marcus’ thumb. Esca barely had time to prop his ankle upon Marcus’ wide shoulder before Marcus grew impatient and slipped in one finger to the knuckle.  
  
Esca hissed and arched into it, curled against that teasing partial fullness. He wanted more, soon,  _now_ , and he made it clear by hooking his knee over Marcus’ shoulder and impaling himself down on Marcus’ hand.  
  
Words had long been unnecessary between them. They worked better without. All misunderstanding fractured beneath the yearning arc of Esca’s body, in the steady, working-open thrust of Marcus’ long, dripping fingers. They remained beneath the blankets like that, drenched in the sweltering heat of each other’s bodies, of tight, shimmering tension and gliding, knuckle-rough friction.  
  
When it became too much, there was only a whine of frustration from Esca and a grunt from Marcus as he hefted himself back over Esca. Despite the pitch dark, Esca still blinked up into it, still searched out Marcus’ shape as he wrapped his legs around Marcus’ hips and dug fingertips between the shallow gaps between Marcus’ ribs.  
  
“Esca,” Marcus said against Esca’s ear, angling his hips to tease the swollen head of his cock against Esca’s twitching, aching entrance.  
  
“Fuck, fuck these fucking blankets,” Esca said roughly, whipping them back until he could again read the shadows that carved Marcus’ features into partial visibility. A sigh nearly slipped from Esca’s lips as he brought one hand to Marcus’ face – but Marcus chose that moment to hike Esca’s hips up and drive into him with one sharp thrust.  
  
The rest was indistinguishable, untouchable by thought or logic. Esca was only ever half-present through pounding force of Marcus’ body, his hips, his cock. He gripped onto Marcus like a lifeline, blind eyes to the ceiling as he breathed out shameless, guttural noises and, in his mind, clawed towards the sky.  
  
He burned, felt pierced through, ripped and ragged in the most brilliant, shattering way. When Marcus assailed him with messy, desperate kisses, Esca could only give in, sink in to the pulse-racing pitch of sweat-slick body against body.  
  
Then everything became sharp, a pinpoint within Esca’s gut that splintered and bloomed like something blinding, jagged, alive. Coming down was like falling from a building and landing without pain.  
  
Aside from the discomfort of a massive man collapsed atop him.  
  
Esca made a noise he wasn’t quite sure was human, then, “Get off of me, Hulk. You’re sweaty.”  
  
Marcus didn’t move. “Menopause?”  
  
“ _What_?”  
  
“First you’re hot, then you’re cold.” Marcus yawned against the crook of Esca’s neck. “Just trying to pinpoint the reason.”  
  
Esca stifled a laugh, but poorly. “Fuck you. You’ll be left  _out_  in the cold if you don’t let me sleep soon.”  
  
“’M not stopping you from doing anything.”  
  
“Oh? Then you won’t stop me from doing  _this_.”  
  
Once Esca had tickled the fuck out of a highly sensitive Marcus, his partner was curled up on his side, whimpering from the onslaught, and Esca was very happy to go to bed as the victor. All in all, he had to admit that this had been a better evening than he would’ve spent sulking about the heating being shut off.  
  
Not that Marcus ever needed to know.  
  
“Stop hogging the blankets,” Esca said quietly, and cuddled up to Marcus for warmth.


End file.
